


Sojourn

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Role Reversal, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A peasant comes before Prince Meludir.
Relationships: Meludir (Hobbit Movies)/Thranduil (Tolkien)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Sojourn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Meludir watches his guards approach with only a mild interest. It isn’t all that unusual for visitors to creep through his forest, and most go straight to his dungeons without appeal—especially bawdy dwarves who think they have a right to trespass in his lands. He exports them all to Laketown with each new shipment of wine, and occasionally lets those dealers come before his throne when they have questions on his order. He’s been told that this particular traveler has wine with him, though not for sale. He was caught on the edge of the woods, freely joining one of the sentry’s camps, and from what Meludir can tell, they liked him well enough. That’s warranted a meeting with the prince. But Meludir doubts there will be anything to say.

As the troop nears him, twisting across the long, winding path that draws up to his throne, Meludir’s eyes slip from the escort to the newcomer with them. Even at a distance, the new elf’s golden hair catches in the candlelight, swinging smoothly behind him with each graceful step. His robes are a simple green but embroidered with silver. He walks with the confidence of a lord but the clothing of a ranger, a bow at his back like any soldier, and Meludir’s been informed that he’s only a simple wanderer—a commoner from foreign lands. Then the party reaches the dais before his throne, and the guards step aside, finally revealing an unfettered view.

Meludir’s eyes go wide. His posture straightens. The man before him is _beautiful_, tall and powerful, with broad shoulders and a chiseled face. His dark brows give him a bored expression, his bow lips twisted in a sly smile of greeting. His grey eyes catch Meludir’s breath. The elf steps forward and dips into an artful bow, rising to announce, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

Meludir has no trouble answering, “The pleasure is all mine.” He’s been told he smiles too often, too easily for a noble prince, but he knows he’s grinning wide now. He physically leans forward when he asks, “Might I have your name?”

“Thranduil,” the elf answers. It’s a strong name, one that suits him well. He speaks with utter confidence, as though he knows exactly how handsome he is. It only makes Meludir more interested. Thranduil adds in a low, soft purr, “And I am at your service.”

The simple words are thrilling. A shiver runs through Meludir’s body. He asks in return, “And how might I serve _you_, Thranduil?”

“You could give me leave to stay in your lovely kingdom.” Thranduil tilts his head, eyes piercing into Meludir—he must know that there’s no chance he’ll be sent away. Meludir is happy to oblige.

“Of course. I will have guest quarters made up for you.”

A smirk stretches across Thranduil’s lips. Meludir has the overwhelming urge to lick them. “You are too kind, my prince.”

“I could be kinder still,” Meludir coos. He knows he’s being too forward, but he doesn’t care—these are the perks of being a lord, and if his advisors find it reckless, so be it. He can’t resist an opportunity so grand as this one. “If you would like, perhaps I could even arrange passage in _royal_ quarters.”

One thick brow lifts. It’s clear from Thranduil’s face that he knows exactly what Meludir is offering. Thranduil looks like a man of far more experience than Meludir in such matters. Meludir can’t wait to test that. Thranduil drawls only, “I would be honoured.”

Delighted, Meludir nods. He doesn’t need to make further orders—his guards know their instructions. Thranduil seems to take the hint too. He bows, then turns to make his leave. He strolls away with even more poise than before, looking for all the world like a king.


End file.
